Page 7 of The Belle and the Biker

My first thought is that a giant rat must have been lurking in the kitchen, and the moment I left, it pounced. She'd be no match for a rat, and I rush back in.

Tiddlywinks sits there calmly in her blanket nest. She cocks her head to the side and stares at me as if to say, What's your problem? I leave again. The minute I'm out in the hallway, the weird, horrible shrieking noise starts again.

Damn it. She'll out us to the landlord.

I return inside, wrap her in my scarf, and zip her into my jacket before heading out the door. "You are, one million percent, going to a shelter tomorrow, you little psycho."

CHAPTER3

Savannah

The temperature has dropped,and stepping out the door is like plunging into a walk-in freezer. Tiddlywinks is wrapped in a towel to keep her from turning into a pupsicle. I hurry to Bone-breakers, thankful that it's only two blocks away. I pull open the door and step into a solid wall of heat and noise.

A strange, electric sensation sizzles along my nerves as I shut the door behind me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It doesn't feel like a warning signal like last summer when my heart started racing, and a rattler slithered out of the bushes. It's more like…arousal? That doesn't make any sense.

I elbow my way through a rowdy crowd of bikers, biker wenches, "prospects" who are being evaluated to see if they're badass enough to join the Iron Ride, and hangers-on. Once I reach the office and punch in, I unzip my jacket and hang it up in the locker, cradling Tiddlywinks in my arms the whole time.

I need to get out on the floor, but how will I work? I can't exactly put her on my tray. With that crowd out there, someone might mistake her for a snack.

Tawny and Kendra, the bar manager, bustle through the door as I'm standing there debating what to do next.

"What is that?" Kendra demands. "It's uglier than the ass-end of a skunk." She leans in closer to stare, just like Tawny did earlier. "My God. Don't feed it after midnight."

"She can hear you!" I say indignantly.

"She claims it's a dog," Tawny informs Kendra. "I have my doubts."

"Her name is Tiddlywinks. I'm just taking care of her until I can get someone to adopt her. Tomorrow. I swear on my life." I give Kendra a pleading look. "I tried to leave her home, but she screamed like a person. Can I possibly leave her in the office, just for tonight?"

Kendra makes a face. "Okay, but you have to clean up after her if she has any accidents."

"I'll go get a box and some towels to put her in," Tawny says. "I just came back here to tell you, you have the section by the door."

"Oh my goodness, I simply adore you."

She winks at me. "Thanks, but you're not my type. And it's not just because you're a girl. Did you seriously fucking just say, 'Oh my goodness'?"

I grab my ugly polyester waitress apron, tying it around my waist. I wish they'd let us color-coordinate them to our outfits, but the management has held firm on that. "Kiss my big fat behind. How's that?"

Tawny shakes her head pityingly. "Behind? Really? Say 'ass.' Say it, Savannah. I know you can."

I sniff disapprovingly. "Ass…pects of that request simply don't work for me at the present time."

"You'll never be a biker, babe. That's not a bad thing; it's just reality. Now get your ass out on the floor. We're slammed."

I flip her off as I walk out of the room, proudly displaying my perfect manicure. Ha. I can be hardcore! Also, I do use the word bitch on a fairly regular basis, but that barely registers on the cuss-meter here, unfortunately. Those biker babes know some colorful words.

My heart speeds up as I leave the room, thudding against my rib cage. What is wrong with me tonight? Is it a leftover effect of this morning's sex dream? I've felt weird ever since I stepped foot in the bar.

I move through the crowd, taking drink orders. A strange, hot arousal plagues me as I rush from the bar to the tables. Crash is the only person who's ever made me feel that way; even Percy didn't have that effect on me.

I scan the crowd, but he's nowhere in sight, and he would be impossible to miss. He stands six-foot-four and has the build of a leather-clad linebacker.

Finally, I relax. Of course, he's not here. He moved out to California months ago to deal with some kind of crisis they were having with a rival club that was shipping weapons to Mexico. The Iron Ride are biker vigilantes. They tend to set up shop in the worst neighborhoods, and after they move in, the drug dealers, gunrunners, and pimps move out or disappear. The cops are secretly simpatico with them, most of the time.

A shrill, high-pitched laugh splits the air as I grab a half-empty mug from an empty table. Instantly my Crash-radar starts dinging again. That is precisely how girls laugh when Crash is in the room, all fake and exaggerated.

Surely Tawny would have warned me if he were back? I mean, not that it's any concern of mine. We never dated. There was a weird attraction between us from the minute we first laid eyes on each other, but it was purely physical. He was rude and growly and didn't hold open doors for me or pull out chairs. Nobody else here does that either, but with Crash, it sent me right up a wall—and I pointed it out to him on more than one occasion.

---